You Could At Least Say Thankyou
by SeerBlack
Summary: Oneshot! Dean makes Sam say thankyou.


**Dedicated to FraidyCat, who gave me this idea.**

Her job was never done, taken back and forth between the men helping to relieve them of their batters and bruises. She always felt like she was taken for granted, never a thankyou coming her way.

She mended their wounds, rubbed ointments into their skin- all without asking for anything in return. What happens if they lost her? The answer to that was pure and simple, if they were in the middle of nowhere, they would die. Of course, they could just rock up to the nearest hospital.

She sighed. She longed to feel their hands touch her body, the urgent tugging as they opened her. It made her life seem worth it. The only thing that made her mad was when they left things open, or forgot to make sure that there was no blood on her. Still, boys will be boys and she couldn't complain.

She felt herself be opened; she could feel his hand searching through her for what he wanted. Gauze, Betadine, one of them must have cut themselves. She waited anxiously to hear them talk, to know that her boys were alright.

"Geez Sammy, that spirit didn't do a half-bad job cutting you up."

"Yeah, well, you should have hurried up with the salting and burning."

She felt a bloodstained bandage being dumped into her and she nearly screamed in rage. She hated blood; it made her feel so queasy! Her roars of outrage made the men stop.

Sam stared at the first aid kit in confusion. He could have sworn he heard screams of outrage from the room, but Dean hadn't said anything. Nor did he sound girly. He shrugged his shoulders and absent-mindedly stroked the soft bundle of white fur that sat next to him. His white rabbit peered up and sniffed before it hopped away from the kit. He watched the first-aid for a moment, and then yelled in horror.

"DEAN!"

He watched as his elder brother ran into the room, Betadine bottle in one hand and fresh gauze in the other. Dean looked at his younger brother worriedly.

"What bro?"

Sam pointed to the first-aid kit and backed away from it.

"Our first-aid kit is possessed."

Dean shrugged and walked over to Sam, removing the blood-stained bandage from the interior.

"Yeah, she's called Sheila. She's the one thing that's been keeping your face pretty."

"What? Wait, you _knew_ that our first-aid kit was possessed and you never told me?"

Dean shrugged again and walked back into the bathroom, apparently content that Sam now knew everything there was to know about life. Sam rolled his eyes and remained away from the possessed kit, wary of its intentions.

Sheila glared at the youngest Winchester. He was so selfish and ungrateful sometimes. At least Dean knew how to handle her with love and care. He treated her good, no matter how angry he was. Sam was _so_ much like his father it wasn't funny. She sighed once more and closed her lid, calling out for Dean to come rescue her. The older Winchester heeded her calls and picked her up gently, scolding his younger brother as he did so.

"Sammy, be nicer. The least you could do is thank her."

"Uh... Thanks? Does this mean that you're car is possessed too?"

Dean made a face and returned Sheila to her cupboard before he walked back to Sam and sat down next to him, rechecking the large gash that ran down his brother's side. He noted the look of hopeful happiness on Sam's face at the thought of Dean's car being possessed. That boy had serious demon issues.

"No, there is no demon in my car."

"You sure, we could always exorcise it just to make sure. Ow."

Dean shot him a murderous glance and continued to pour Betadine onto his wounds.

"You ain't going anywhere near my babe with a latin dictionary."

"Deeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaan."

"No. I mean it, you do that and Mr. Fluffy over here is going down the toilet."

Sam shot his brother an annoyed expression and scooped the rabbit up to his chest.

"It's Mr. Sunshine to you, and fine, I won't go near your girlfriend. Jerk."

"Whatever dude."

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**A/N: _Disclaimer: _I don't own anything to do with Supernatural, Eric Kripke does. As per usual random dribble, read and review!**


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